City of Rogues: Book I of the Kobalos Trilogy

by Ty Johnston

  “We’ve not finished our business.” Kron waved his sword about. “You still owe me for the lives of the Tallerus family.”

  Belgad half turned to Stilp. “Find any guards you can. If none are awake, wake them.”

  Stilp knew better than to ask a question. He jogged back down the stairs.

  The blade of Kron’s sword continued to dance in the air before him. “Do you need your boys to do your work for you?”

  Belgad launched himself, covering the distance to Kron in a single mighty bound.

  A look of surprise on his face, Darkbow backpedaled, keeping the point of his weapon in front to ward off his attacker.

  Belgad landed on the top step and crouched as if ready to leap again. “Don’t think for a second that hunk of metal is going to keep me from tearing you apart.”

  In control of himself again, Kron grinned.

  Belgad jumped.

  The man in black slashed. The sword’s tip caught the bulky Dartague across the chest, slicing open his white toga and leaving a gash of red.

  The big, bald northerner ignored his wound. He swung out with a fist, missing only because his foe ducked, then powered around with a punch from his other hand.

  The blow was not direct, but it caught Kron on the side of the head and sent him trundling back along the railed balcony.

  Belgad moved in, his fists still swinging.

  Doing the unthinkable, Kron slammed his sword into its sheath on his back. Then he stepped into his foe.

  Belgad had not anticipated the move, and was taken off balance as he tried to correct his attack for a nearer enemy.

  Kron smashed out with a gloved fist, connecting with the center of the larger man’s face.

  The Dartague’s body shook for a second and a glazed look crossed the man’s eyes. Then he blinked and focused again. He glared at his opponent with a grin.

  “Damn.” Kron swung another fist.

  Belgad was ready this time. He twisted to one side, and with his longer reach snapped out a hand to grab his foe’s wrist.

  Kron suddenly found himself held in place, but that did not mean he was helpless. His free hand yanked a dagger from his belt and stabbed.

  The blade did not travel far, barely breaking the skin before Belgad’s other hand grabbed the wrist holding the knife.

  The two strong men struggled in place, their feet planted wide and their arms locked together. Sweat dripped off each of their brows as their breathing grew heavier and their eyes locked on one another.

  Belgad pushed down on Kron’s arms, trying to lower his opponent’s defenses for a head butt, but the man in black proved as strong as the barbarian.

  Kron tried to push his dagger home, to impale his foe on the small weapon, but Belgad was no weakling to allow such to happen.

  They were at a stalemate.

  Sounds of running feet and jingling chain armor from below drew their attention.

  Stilp and a handful of guards were running along the hall for the stairs.

  “Your time draws near.” Belgad’s wide grin showed blood in his teeth.

  “As does yours.” Kron bent back the dagger in one of his pinned hands and slashed with it, cutting into Belgad’s bare wrist.

  The Dartague screamed but held fast to his adversary.

  Kron pushed and twisted the knife, cutting deeper and deeper until scarlet was flowing from the bulky northerner’s arm.

  Stilp and the guards were at the bottom of the stairs, charging up.

  “Damn!” Belgad shoved back on Kron, freeing the man in black.

  Darkbow saw a chance to escape and launched himself over the balcony railing.

  Belgad slung out his good hand and snatched a fistful of Kron’s cloak. “Got you!”

  Kron was jarred, suddenly caught and hanging by his cloak, his feet kicking at air with the ground swaying below. The dagger bounced from his hand and fell, crashing to the floor.

  “Get under him!” Belgad shouted.

  Stilp and the guards turned and charged back down the stairs.

  Kron gagged, the cloak tight around his neck cutting off his air. With blurring vision he glanced up, saw Belgad’s outstretched arm holding him, and tried to reach the other dagger in his left boot. He pulled up his leg and stretched forth an arm, but the weapon was just out of reach.

  The guards clambered toward his position.

  Kron had no other choice. He slipped one of his precious grenados from a pocket of his belt and flipped it up and behind.

  Belgad didn’t know what hit him. Fire burst from behind the big man, spraying flames. Surprised and singed, the Dartague dropped his heavy foe, allowing Kron to fall to the ground.

  The man in black landed in a roll, a hand sliding out to retrieve his dropped dagger before he came up on his feet. Stilp and the three guards suddenly found themselves facing a ready and armed Darkbow, but their eyes were pinned on the fire above.

  Belgad screamed and moved back along the upstairs rail, fire licking at his heels.

  “Good day, gentlemen.” Kron waved a hand, turned and fled deeper into the house.

  Stilp and the others did not follow, suddenly busy scurrying for buckets and water.

  Several minutes later, from atop the high wall surrounding Belgad’s grounds, Kron watched the flames growing in strength the front hall of the house. Screams and yells still came from within.

  With a grin, Kron dropped outside the fence and took off at a run.

  ***

  “It is done.”

  The others in the warehouse stared at the man in black in surprise, as if they found it difficult to believe what he had said.

  Randall was the first to speak. “Belgad is dead?”

  Kron nodded. “I believe so.”

  Gris did not appear overjoyed with the news. “Thus falls a legend.”

  Adara’s mood was little better. “It’s not over. Fortisquo will be after us, or at least after me.”

  “The war demons might be able to follow us, too,” Randall pointed out. “I definitely won’t be able to use the ring again, or it will draw them to us.”

  Gris patted the healer on a shoulder. “Markwood could handle them.”

  Randall frowned as he looked to the sergeant. “I don’t want Maslin involved any more than he already is. The less he knows, the safer he will be.”

  Gris nodded and turned his attentions on Kron. “I can’t change your minds about going to Kobalos, can I?”

  Kron shook his head. Adara and Randall remained silent.

  “So you’ve taken on the most powerful businessman and underworld figure in Bond,” Gris continued to his friend, “and now you’re turning your sights to Kobalos and the most powerful madman on the continent. That makes perfect sense. Whatever happened to settling down, getting married, having a few kids and enjoying the good life?”

  Kron face was impassive, like dead stone. “It died with my parents, and with Wyck.”

  “It died with my parents, too,” Adara added.

  Randall saw no reason not to join. “And mine when my father murdered the rest of my family.”

  Kron smirked at the sergeant. “It’s not as if you have become a family man.”

  “No, but I had hoped I’d put most of this type nonsense behind me when I left the Prisonlands.” Gris grumbled and stared about at the other three.

  Kron’s only response was a darker grin.

  “When are you leaving and which way are you going?” Gris then interrupted himself. “No, don’t tell me. The less I know the safer it will be for the three of you.”

  The others gave one another surprised looks.

  “You will be going with us,” Kron said.

  “Me? No.” Gris shook his head. “You can ride faster without me.”

  Adara seemed the most disturbed by the idea, her voice pitched high. “It won’t be safe for you here.”

  “Fortisquo and Verkain will be busy hunting you three.”

  “You would be taking a large risk,�
� Randall said.

  Gris turned to look at the healer. “Do you honestly think I will be safer on the road with you three?”

  None of the others had an answer. They knew the truth. Their path would be a dangerous one.

  Kron also expected another potential danger. Kobalos lay far to the northeast, a month’s hard ride. The mountain range called the Needles lay between West Ursia and the eastern part of the continent. Once over the Needles, the group would have to travel through either the Prisonlands or East Ursia to reach Kobalos. Neither path was appealing and each had dangers of its own. The only other option was an oceanic route through the northern sea, and that way was little better what with the snowy cold conditions and Jorsican pirates.

  “He’s right.” Kron looked to Randall and Adara after having pondered Gris’s words. “He will be as safe in Bond as he would on the road with us. Also, he can serve a purpose by letting Markwood know we are not in immediate danger.”

  The healer’s eyes flared. “I said I did not want Maslin involved.”

  Kron spun on Randall, then eased his approach. “If he is not told something, he will try to find you himself. And as you yourself said, he is likely to try and join our band. While his aid would be appreciated and helpful, there is little use in us endangering an old man.”

  Randall appeared taken back by the last words. “That old man is the greatest wizard living.”

  No one could disagree with the healer.

  “When are you setting out?” Gris asked.

  “The morning sun will be up within the hour.” Kron glanced toward high windows in the warehouse walls. “We’ll rest until then. If you want us to, we will escort you to Markwood. If not, then we’ll make sure you are in condition to meet him. Either way, we will be leaving before noon.”

  ***

  The morning was one of mute sadness. None of the group spoke as they stoically ate a breakfast of biscuits and tarts Adara purchased from a near vending booth.

  Kron’s lips turned up slightly as he stared at the blueberry tart in his hands. The meal reminded him of Wyck and the sweet treats the boy used to buy with the money Kron gave him.

  After breakfast, they packed what gear they had on their horses and mounted up outside the warehouse.

  Kron reached down from his horse and shook Gris’s hand. “Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you to Markwood’s?”

  Gris gave a weak smiled. “I’ll be safe enough. It’s you lot Ashal needs to be watching.”

  Randall steered his animal to the other side of the sergeant and reached down to shake the man’s hand. “Tell Maslin not to worry. It will be some time before we reach Kobalos, and that is when the real danger will begin.”

  Gris grinned up at the younger man. “I will do as you say, but don’t be surprised if the old wizard shows up on your trail.”

  Randall laughed as he steered away. “I wouldn’t at all be surprised.”

  Adara sat unmoving in her saddle. She had no one for the sergeant to pass words along to.

  Gris turned to the woman but did not approach. “Fortisquo will be looking for you.” He smiled with gritted teeth. “I hope you give him the end of your blade.”

  Adara returned the ferocious smile. “Thank you,” she said, and she meant it. The words of encouragement soared through her. She feared Fortisquo, but not because he was a grand master of the rapier; she feared the man because of the betrayal she had done to him and the emotional pain it had caused both of them. Still, she would not have done things differently. Life was a challenge, and Adara always sought more challenges. Kron offered her training to face those challenges and he and Randall brought along enough challenge of their own.

  Kron sauntered forward. “We should be going.”

  The three riders directed their horses away from the sergeant as he waved a goodbye.

  Kron turned in his saddle and gave Gris a two-fingered salute, the sign for recognition of one Prisonlands border warden to another.

  Still smiling, the sergeant returned the salute, fearing he would never see his old friend or the others again.

  ***

  Kron steered the others across the North River bridge and into Uptown, thinking Belgad would not have as many contacts in the wealthiest section of the city, thus lessening any chances they would run across spies of the Dartague.

  The group remained quiet for most of the ride through the town’s crowded morning streets until they spied several city guards speaking with two men wearing chain shirts and carrying long, heavy swords near the eastern gates of the walled city.

  Randall pulled his steed to a stop next to Kron. “They could be Belgad’s men.”

  Kron showed no signs of pulling away. “Keep riding.”

  To their surprise, they were not stopped by the city guard nor the other two men.

  “They must not have a description of us,” Kron said as they made their way through the gates and away from the city.

  Once they were nearly a mile outside the walls, Darkbow halted his horse and turned in his saddle to stare back at the city he had called home as a boy and had come to know again in the last month. He gave the warden’s salute again and turned to face forward, riding east next to the river and his traveling companions.

  Continued in: Road to Wrath: Book II of The Kobalos Trilogy

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  The Ursian Chronicles

  (in order of publication)

  City of Rogues: Book I of The Kobalos Trilogy

  Road to Wrath: Book II of The Kobalos Trilogy

  Dark King of the North: Book III of The Kobalos Trilogy

  The Kobalos Trilogy OMNIBUS edition

  Blade and Flame: short story sequel to The Kobalos Trilogy

  Bayne’s Climb: Part I of The Sword of Bayne

  A Thousand Wounds: Part II of The Sword of Bayne

  Under the Mountain: Part III of The Sword of Bayne

  The Sword of Bayne OMNIBUS edition

  Ghosts of the Asylum

  Demon Chains

  The Castle of Endless Woe (novelette)

  Six Swords, One Skeleton and a Sewer (short story)

  Road of the Sword (short story)

  Five Tales from The Rusty Scabbard

  Mage Hunter: Episode I: Blooded Snow

  Mage Hunter: Episode II: Sundered Shields

  Mage Hunter: Episode III: Bared Blades

  About the author

  Ty Johnston is the author of several novels and short story collections and a former newspaper journalist who has been writing fiction for nearly twenty years. When not busy writing or reading, he enjoys spending time with his wife, their beagle and house rabbits. To find out more, check out his blog at tyjohnston.blogspot.com. Also, sign up for the author’s newsletter

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

  Copyright © 2009 Ty Johnston

  Cover artwork copyright © 2012 Ty Johnston

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher at htjohnston@yahoo.com.

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Amazon.com and purchase your own
copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Thank you very much for reading City of Rogues.

  I know your time is valuable and I sincerely thank you for finishing this novel. If you would take a brief moment to return to where you purchased the book and leave a review, it would be much appreciated.

  Reviews can help new readers find my work and accurately decide if the book is for them as well as provide valuable feedback for my future writing.

  Thank you again, and be sure to check out the sequels in The Kobalos Trilogy.